


Three Feathers

by orchidlocked



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: First Time, Fluff, M/M, Mating Rituals, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-31 23:54:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20248720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orchidlocked/pseuds/orchidlocked
Summary: A pristine white feather was sitting on the passenger seat of the Bentley. Judging by the length of it, it was one of Aziraphale’s primaries. Crowley’s breath caught in his throat for a moment as he put the car back in park. Surely, this was an accident. Aziraphale would have definitely said something if he was - nope, it was probably just a feather that had fallen out. Crowley stared at the feather for a long time before picking it up and carefully tucking it into the interior pocket of his vest. It was most likely a fluke, but that didn’t mean he could violate ancient protocol, in case it was what Crowley dared to hope for.





	Three Feathers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheMadKatter13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMadKatter13/gifts).

> This was written as a gift for the Summer 2019 Good Omens Fan Exchange! The prompt I chose was a mating flight. hope you all enjoy and thanks for having me participate. :)

The first time it happened, Crowley didn’t think much of it; it was about two months after the Apocawasn’t, and he and Aziraphale had just returned from a lovely weekend in Whitstable. It was Aziraphale’s idea to attend the annual Oyster Festival, and Crowley was happy to oblige. After losing Aziraphale in a fire, and nearly losing him (and everything) a second time due to the certain destruction of the earth, Crowley had barely left the angel’s side. He’d never felt so good. Aziraphale didn’t mind him hanging out at the bookshop at all hours, they ate together at least twice a day, and Crowley leapt at the chance to fulfill Aziraphale’s every whim. In short, it was _almost_ everything he’d ever wanted. And since it was so close to being everything he'd ever wanted, it was very easy for him to ignore the fact that he wasn't currently snogging the angel senseless at every moment. Best not to be too greedy; he reminded himself that he could have lost it all, and this was a far better outcome than that. Crowley reserved a cottage, drove them to Whitstable, and spent the weekend slathering sun lotion on Aziraphale’s pale shoulders, ducking into little shops on the boardwalk, and watching him slurp down oyster after oyster. He’d had such a wonderful time.

“Bought a bottle of their local gin home for us,” Crowley said, producing a wooden box from the backseat. “Care to cap off the weekend with me?”

“Oh Crowley, I’d love to, but I am so far behind on inventory,” Aziraphale said. “Let me catch up on that tonight and perhaps you could, ah, come by tomorrow?”

Crowley shifted in the driver’s seat and did his best to hide his disappointment. “Right, yes, well. You have been out of town a lot lately.”

“And having a wonderful time of it.” Aziraphale leaned over and gave Crowley a gentle, quick peck on the cheek. “Why don’t you stop by the pastry shop when it opens and bring some croissants and coffee? We can have a nice breakfast before maybe... going to the park. Or I know there was a film you’d wanted to see, wasn’t there?”

Crowley blushed. “All splendid ideas, Angel. Yeah, I can do that. I’ll see you for breakfast then.”

“Lovely, dear. I'll see you in the morning.”

Crowley felt a slight pang of sadness as Aziraphale got out of the car and walked into the bookshop, but then he remembered that he’d see Aziraphale tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that as well. He smiled; what a lucky demon he was. It wasn’t until he put his arm on the seat to look over his shoulder that he saw it.

A pristine white feather was sitting on the passenger seat of the Bentley. Judging by the length of it, it was one of Aziraphale’s primaries. Crowley’s breath caught in his throat for a moment as he put the car back in park. Surely, this was an accident. Aziraphale would have definitely said something if he was - nope, it was probably just a feather that had fallen out. Crowley stared at the feather for a long time before picking it up and carefully tucking it into the interior pocket of his vest. It was most likely a fluke, but that didn’t mean he could violate ancient protocol, in case it was what Crowley dared to hope for. His hands were shaking the entire way home.

The second time came a few months later; it was the holidays and Crowley was nearly vibrating out of his skin with excitement. He'd invited Aziraphale over to his flat and had spent the entire day making it the type of place in which an angel would feel at home. There was a small but finely-decorated Christmas tree in the corner, mulled wine in a pot on the stove, and a dizzying array of holiday confections. Crowley was most excited about the present he'd gotten for Aziraphale: a gorgeous cream-colored ankle length velvet cape, complete with faux fur trim and a soft pink satin ribbon to tie it on. He'd paid extra to have it wrapped up in fancy gold and white paisley paper. After they'd enjoyed some wine and snacks, Crowley made up an excuse to go into his bedroom to get the present out. He held the box and stared at it for a few minutes before working up the courage to go back into the living room and silently hand it to Aziraphale.

“Crowley,” the angel said, looking at him and then shyly looking away. “You didn't have to.” Crowley watched nervously as Aziraphale opened the box. “Oh – it's beautiful.” Aziraphale's eyes went wide and he wasted no time in trying on the cape and doing a few little twirls around the room.

Crowley cleared his throat. “You like it?”

“I adore it, dear. I have something for you as well.” Aziraphale walked to the front door, opened it, and came back in with a large cardboard box. Crowley chuckled at the fact that Aziraphale knew to leave it in the hallway. Aziraphale set the box down carefully at Crowley's feet and looked at him expectantly. Crowley opened the lid and slowly pulled out a gorgeous, alien looking plant with giant red and plum elongated tubes hanging off it. He was so overjoyed he couldn't say a single word.

“So, it's a pitcher plant. You had mentioned there was a bit of a fly problem in the plant room and this, erm, well, the lady at the shop said it was quite good at-” Aziraphale struggled to find the words, but Crowley knew the Nepenthes genus well.

“You got me a murderous plant for Christmas, Angel?” Crowley could barely keep the glee out of his voice.

“_Crowley!_” Aziraphale sputtered. “It's not murderous, it's just for – for pest control!”

“I'm kidding. I love it. It's absolutely beautiful,” he said. He gazed at Aziraphale and wondered if he could get away with pulling him in for an extended festive snog. “I've always wanted one of these.”

“Really?” Aziraphale's face lit up.

“Really. It's everything I could ever want,” Crowley said. With newfound (or magical?) courage, he leaned over and gave Aziraphale a soft kiss on the cheek. “Thank you so much.” Had he been able to look at Aziraphale, he would have noticed the angel's cheeks had become quite flushed.

They put on a record (Aziraphale's choice, the Carpenters Christmas album) and sat on the sofa talking. drinking mulled wine, and nibbling on cookies long after the second side of the record had finished. Eventually, Aziraphale stood and donned his new cape.

“It's just so lovely, my dear.” He ran his hands over the velvet. “I should get going, I don't want to keep you up all night.”

Crowley wanted to say, “Do you have to leave?” But instead he said, “Are you sure you don’t need a ride home, Angel?”

Aziraphale twisted his hands together a bit. “It’s fine really, I could use a bit of a walk.”

Crowley cocked his head. “Aziraphale, are you all right?”

“Yes! Fine! Tickety-boo, splendid. I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early.”

“All right. Well.” Crowley looked down at the floor. “Call me when you get back to the shop. If you don’t mind.”

Aziraphale gave a little awkward wave and walked down the hallway. Crowley closed the door to his flat and was heading into the plant room when he saw it: another white feather laying on the black marble countertop. It was the same size as the feather he’d found in the Bentley. Crowley’s heart raced. Surely Aziraphale wasn’t asking him to - no. It simply couldn’t be. He shouldn’t get his hopes up. After all, it had been months now since the thwarted Apocalypse; he had seen Aziraphale everyday since then and they hadn’t even so much as held hands. If Aziraphale was trying to ask Crowley for this, it would at least warrant a conversation, or even a mention in passing? Crowley picked up the feather and felt a warm tingling in his hands. It wasn’t _that_; it definitely couldn’t be that. He took a moment to steady himself. Even though Crowley had fallen, he started his existence as an angel and therefore was still bound to follow the ancient traditions, same as any other celestial being. His hands trembled as he gently picked up the feather and carried it into his bedroom.

The third time happened in the springtime, as the daffodils were starting to rise from the ground. Since the holidays, he'd been trying his best to get some sort of information out of Aziraphale, with no success. He'd dropped hints about the birds and the bees, even (accurately) pointed out two butterflies involved in a mating flight. No response.

They were at the bookshop, whiling away a Saturday night with a fantastic bottle of wine and designer truffles. Crowley had also surprised Aziraphale with a vase full of fragrant hyacinths. Crowley had never seen Aziraphale looking so happy and relaxed.

“Really great isn't it, that we stopped that whole apocalypse thing,” Crowley said, sucking down the last of his wine.

“Oh, yes.” Aziraphale hiccupped. “I'd be utterly lost without you.” Crowley nearly dropped his glass and tried to cover it up by pretending he was asking for more. “Be a dear and pick out the next record, will you? I'm going to grab a few more bottles for us.”

Crowley took his time flipping through the records until he found an album he'd gotten Aziraphale a few months back: Sarah Vaughn sings George Gershwin. It took quite a bit for the angel to return, but Crowley didn't think much too much of it until he had hugged Aziraphale and said his goodbyes for the night. As he approached the door, he was greeted by the sight of another of Aziraphale's primary feathers, balanced perfectly on the doorknobs. No mistaking what this was. Aziraphale must have placed it there earlier in the evening. This was the third feather. That meant... it couldn’t mean anything else. Could it? Crowley’s hands were trembling as he picked up the feather and ran to the Bentley.

Crowley parked illegally, burst into his flat, and headed straight for the bedroom. The two feathers he'd found were still in their place on his dresser. He took the third and began wrapping them together with the chain from an old necklace. Crowley took a moment in front of the mirror to slap on a bit of cologne and comb his hair. He was going to be asking Aziraphale _the_ question; he needed all the help he could get. The journey back to the bookshop didn't take as long as normal; Crowley thought he felt a bit of divine assistance from the Bentley. He leapt up the stairs and burst through the door.

“Aziraphale! Aziraphale,” he cried out into the dark. Crowley heard a snap and then the lights came on.

“Back so soon?” The angel was standing in the center of the shop, hands clasped behind his back.

“Aziraphale...” Crowley took a moment to catch his breath, then held up the three feathers in his hand. “I’m not sure if you’re trying to ask me what I think you’re trying to ask me.” He took off his sunglasses.

Aziraphale fidgeted with the bottom of his vest as he walked slowly towards Crowley. “Well, yes, Crowley, I was trying to ask you if,” Aziraphale cleared his throat as Crowley stepped closer. “Oh my, now that you’re right here, I seem to have lost the exact words I wanted to say-” the last word came out as a squeak.

Crowley knelt down before him and unfurled his black wings to their full extent. “If you wish to have me as your mate, I offer myself to you, Angel.” Aziraphale ran his hand over the top of Crowley’s wing, then took his face in both hands.

“Is this what you want?” Aziraphale said tenderly.

“Yes, more than anything.” Crowley pulled his right wing forward and plucked a primary feather out. “One represents me,” he said as he handed it to Aziraphale. Crowley thumbed through his left wing to find a feather of equal quality; he was so nervous he didn’t feel a thing when he pulled it out.

“Two represents you,” Aziraphale said as he accepted the second feather.

Finally, Crowley chose the third feather, the largest of the three, with just a hint of deep green iridescence on the lower half. He held the feather out and Aziraphale reached out with palm outstretched; the tips of their fingers touched as they balanced the feather between them. Crowley looked at Aziraphale with eyebrows raised, making sure they were on the same page one last time before...

“And three represents what we together shall be,” Aziraphale started the phrase and Crowley joined in. The six feathers began spinning around in a swirl of golden light, purple and yellow, turquoise and pink exploding off the whirring ball like fireworks. As the feathers began their ascent, Aziraphale threw his arms around Crowley and kissed him passionately. Crowley made a noise of surprise at the first touch of their lips, slowly easing into the contact, bringing his hand up to Aziraphale’s cheek. 

“Aren’t we, uh, supposed to wait?” Crowley said softly as he pulled away from the kiss.

“I don’t care,” Aziraphale said, “I’ve been waiting for such a long time already, and seeing as we’ll be um, out of commission for a while after this, as it were. I just wanted to.”

“It’s okay,” Crowley kissed Aziraphale again, slowly and deeply, cupping his face with both hands as he explored the angel’s mouth with his tongue. Then Crowley pulled away and looked into Aziraphale's eyes. “Well, Angel, are you ready?”

Aziraphale laughed nervously. “I suppose. I’ve never done this before, so...”

“Neither have I,” Crowley added as he looked at his feet. The realization that they were both in the same boat calmed Aziraphale, and he took Crowley’s hand. 

“Shall we?”

Crowley nodded, and they jumped upwards to complete their ritual on the celestial plane. They twirled around one another; Aziraphale flew in a zig zag pattern and Crowley followed closely behind. The ancient dance had many steps, but it was theirs to interpret; Aziraphale opted for more playful movements while Crowley incorporated a dramatic flair. The final stage of the flight was a spiral path upwards, both angel and demon leaving dramatic swirls of light and color behind in their wake. As he followed Aziraphale’s every movement, Crowley found himself remembering flashes of their life in heaven together, before the Fall. His heart was filled to bursting, and he saw the joy he felt reflected on Aziraphale’s face. It seemed to end all too soon, and suddenly they were drifting downwards, back to the earthly plane, holding hands and looking into each other’s eyes.

“You all right, Angel?”

Aziraphale was flushed. “I feel a bit, a bit off. Is it supposed to feel like this?”

“I've heard a few things.” Crowley felt pretty stable, but as he looked upwards to find a spot for their metamorphosis he saw spots around the edges of his vision. "Come on, we'll go up there." He pointed to the top of the bookshelf. 

"You want it to be right there? All my first editions are directly underneath!" 

“Well, we’ve got to find a spot for the chrysalis,” Crowley said.

“I’m aware.” Aziraphale’s legs were shaking and he was beginning to sweat. “I’m just saying I’d prefer to have it somewhere _not_ above all that in case something happens upon our exit!”

“Angel, just trust me on this one. We need to have a bit of room to stretch out once we emerge.” Crowley held his hand out to Aziraphale and they flew up to the highest beam. It was completely unclear who was doing what, but in a few minutes, the furious spinning and groaning stopped and there was a very large grey chrysalis hanging in the bookshop. Neither Crowley nor Aziraphale could see the beautiful exterior of the chrysalis; it was splattered with turquoise and yellow, purple and pink, complete with golden caps on the top and bottom.

The next month passed without anyone even noticing the sign in the window of the bookshop that read “On Holiday.” One morning, the very large chrysalis began to split open along the side, and the noise of a demon cursing could be heard from the street.

“Ouch!” came Aziraphale’s voice from the top of the chrysalis.

“I’m sorry, Angel, I’m trying,” Crowley kicked a leg through the bottom of the chrysalis and then ripped it halfway open up the side seam. Crowley used the outer shell of the chrysalis as it was intended and made a firm wrap around his feet and ankles. Then he flipped upside down and released his wings. They were shriveled up and tiny, about the size of a backpack, and they would need a while to fully fill out and open back up to their normal size. “Come on, Aziraphale. It's gonna hold us. Just go slow.” Crowley talked Aziraphale through it as he shimmied down the chrysalis.

“Oh, heavens, what am I supposed to do now?” Aziraphale asked.

“So you've got to attach your feet, use it like a rope, like a sticky rope, that's what it's designed to do,” Crowley sat up a bit to gesture with his hands, “get yourself tied in there real good, and then slowly flip over. The operative word being _slowly_.”

“Ack!” Aziraphale did not slowly flip over; he tumbled out of the chrysalis, but thankfully, he had done a good job of attaching himself. Crowley grabbed his hand to steady him. “Now what?” he asked.

“Well,” Crowley said, staring at his lovely, upside-down angel, his mate, “we hang out.” Watching Aziraphale do a huffy little eye roll and try to cross his arms while upside down was pure entertainment for Crowley, who immediately dissolved into a laughing fit. “I'm sorry, Angel. You have to admit-”

“It was a horrible joke,” Aziraphale said as he reached for Crowley's hand and interlaced their fingers together. They stayed like that for a while, passing the time by recounting their favorite memories together and brainstorming about things they hoped to do in the near future. Crowley stared into Aziraphale's eyes and felt something warm unfolding in the center of his chest. He heard a rustling noise and looked at Aziraphale's back to see his wings had filled out.

“Angel.” Crowley's voice was full of wonder. “Your new wings.”

Aziraphale peeked over to catch a glimpse of Crowley’s new wings and his eyes went wide.

“Crowley, oh, they're absolutely so beautiful,” Aziraphale said. “Do you think it’s safe for us to extricate ourselves from this?”

Crowley furrowed his brow. “Hmm. Maybe try flapping your wings? See if they feel like normal?”

Aziraphale's wings were indeed back to full flight strength, and he unwrapped his feet before starting on Crowley's. “Are you ready for me to release you, my dear?”  
  
“Absolutely.” Crowley quickly flew away from the chrysalis and slowly lowered himself to the ground. Aziraphale landed in front of him and Crowley took in the stunning sight of his new wings. They were a light dove grey, with a few pink and turquoise feathers scattered throughout.

“Wow,” Crowley said. He pulled his wings around the front to take a look at them. They were a slightly darker shade of grey, with purple and yellow feathers concentrated on the top of his wing. It wasn’t until Aziraphale turned around that Crowley saw the dots and splashes of bright metallic gold all over his wings. Aziraphale immediately inspected Crowley’s back and confirmed that he too, had the same brilliant golden accents. They stood admiring each other's wings for a moment before Aziraphale cracked his neck and retracted his wings, Crowley following him shortly after. He gazed at Aziraphale in wonder before pulling him in for a deep and tender kiss. “My Angel, my mate,” he said, running his hands over Aziraphale's cheeks and down his neck. “You've got to be hungry after a month in there. Let me take you out for-” Crowley looked at the clock “-lunch. Where can I take you? The Ritz? Do you want sushi? Anywhere you want to go.” He stroked Aziraphale's hand with all the sincerity of someone who was finally – _finally_ – able to show their love after a couple of thousand years.

“Oh, I actually have other plans for today,” Aziraphale said casually.

“You_ what_?” Crowley snapped. “This is our first day together as _mates_ and you've got other bloody plans?” He didn't even have time to put a hand on his skinny hips before Aziraphale pounced on him and knocked him to the floor.

“My darling, you can't really think I'd want to leave the shop today.” Aziraphale nibbled down Crowley's jawline. “Not when I've been waiting such a long time for this.”  
  
Crowley's eyes went wide. “I wasn't, ah,” Aziraphale began unbuttoning his shirt. “I wasn't aware that you had been waiting such a long time for something from me.” Crowley yelped as Aziraphale licked a long stripe down his stomach. “You could have definitely asked me a lot sooner for this, Aziraphale! I was ready a long - oh!”

“It wasn't obvious?” Aziraphale batted his eyelashes at Crowley, and that's when the last shred of the demon's self control evaporated.

“Two can play that game, Angel,” Crowley said as he flipped Aziraphale over onto his back, quickly snapping his fingers to remove his shirt. They both gasped at the skin to skin contact. Crowley ran his hands through Aziraphale's soft curls and suddenly went still. “Was that too much?” he whispered, averting his eyes.

“Oh, not at all, my dear,” Aziraphale purred.

“Tell me what you want,” Crowley said, kissing the soft space between Aziraphale's collarbone and his chest. “Please, I've been dying to know, all these years.” He looked down at Aziraphale, who was wiggling a bit underneath him.

“Well, erm, it's just. It's a bit... personal.”

“Go on,” Crowley said. Aziraphale began whispering into Crowley's ear and while it was true demons weren't exactly known for blushing, Crowley's face had never been a deeper shade of red. He cycled rapidly through a broad range of facial expressions. “_You_... all right.” Crowley formed the words carefully and slowly. “All right. I can do that, yeah.”

“Is that... ahh. Oh my. Is that too strange of a request? Do you think less of me?”

Crowley began moving his mouth, unable to form anything but nonsense sounds, eventually spitting out an emphatic “no!”

“Are you sure, my love? Because I've been ah, attending to my own needs for quite some time and if it's too much for you, I can always take care of it myself, you needn't-”

Crowley cut him off with a passionate kiss. “No. I _want_ to.” Aziraphale made the most adorable little gasp.

“Oh,_ Crowley_.” The tenderness in Aziraphale's voice absolutely wrecked him. “It's always been you, you know. All this time. I just, well... I quite enjoy my physical form, and it always seemed such a waste to not explore-”

Aziraphale had no time to finish his sentence; he was interrupted by his mate kissing him as though his life depended on it. Crowley began working his way down Aziraphale's body with more kisses, licks, and the occasional nibble, his forked tongue catching the angel's scent. “I'm going to make you feel so good, Angel. Anything you want,” he muttered as he attempted to unbutton a pair of Victorian-era trousers with his teeth.

“Fucking_ finally._” Aziraphale exhaled the phrase in the faintest of whispers.

Crowley jerked his head up. “What'd you say?”

“Nothing, dear.” The angel let out a tiny sigh and miracled a mattress and pillow for himself. Well, technically, the mattress was for both of them. 

Crowley put his hands on Aziraphale's thighs and pushed up to look at him. "Really?" he asked, a familiar look from the Garden of Eden on his face.

"We're going to be here for a while!" Aziraphale said haughtily. "Might as well make it comfortable," he said, reaching behind his head to fluff the pillow just a bit. 

"What have I gotten myself into?" Crowley chuckled to himself as he slowly pulled Aziraphale's trousers off and began folding them. 

"Nothing yet, you might want to get on that." 

Aziraphale looked down at Crowley with a single brow raised. They stared at each other for a long moment, but eventually it was Crowley who broke. He smirked, rolled his eyes, and lowered himself down between Aziraphale's thighs. 


End file.
